Of the Sea, England and Being a Privateer
by verbal diarrhea
Summary: The sea always held a special place in America’s heart, if only because of its affiliation with a certain tea-loving country. Being a privateer only brought pirate!Arthur and the open ocean into one unit of pure awesome.


Summary: The sea always held a special place in America's heart, if only because of its affiliation with a certain tea-loving country. Being a privateer only brought pirate!Arthur and the open ocean into one unit of pure awesome. Because there isn't ANY privateer!America, and priate!England is lonely.

Warning: over usage of the word 'sea'. Use of human names (Alfred=America, Arthur=England, Iggy=England=Arthur), extended metaphor (see 'author's note' below, or, just read the story) and clichéd imagery. Also, I think I'm better with Alfred's characterization. Please, PLEASE, give me feedback on Arthur's.

Word Count: 1085

A/N: This fic can be made into a drinking game. Take a drink every time you read the word 'sea'! Guh-I feel like Mako Tsunami. While I was writing, I kept picturing:

"_America is standing on a hill, the sea panning out majestically behind him. Directly below is a sheer drop, the hill turning into a cliff that ends in jagged rocks and rather intense wave-action. Ocean spray is flown high into the air._

America: _shouting_ The Sea (England) and I are engaged in frottage."

::is shot::

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Even from a young age, America had always been fascinated by the sea. It was beautiful and fierce and reminded America of a mother with her bountiful food-the rhythmic pounding of the waves her lullaby. But that voice could just as easily become enraged, large swells erupting from her seething froth.

And when the large European galleons arrived on his shores, the sea gave him a brother.

If ever there was a living embodiment of the sea, it was England. Not only were the other country's exploits telling of the understanding he held with the oceans, and not only was England the preeminent naval power. England himself, Arthur Kirkland, seemed like the sea given flesh. Nurturing one moment, tempestuous the next. His eyes were green like the glistening seaweed that washed up on shore. And when the pilgrims were partly saved from starvation by nature of the monstrous crustaceans that washed up on shore, America was kept fed by England's well-meant cooking.

But just as the sea brought England, so did it take him away. America always watched tearfully from the shore as the same galleon that bore Arthur to Alfred carried him back to Europe. But, at least then there was the knowledge that Arthur would return to America's shores, like a wave crashing and receding. Until then, Alfred would wait for the wave that would ferry home England's ship.

In the meantime, America worked and labored, helping his people build homes and towns along the eastern shoreline. And sometimes those towns would evolve into port cities, key centers of commerce and industry. He was building himself up, trying to be a nation England could be proud of. And similarly to England, America needed ocean-going vessels if he wanted to communicate with Europe. But most of all, Alfred just wanted to be able to visit England and stay at England's house. And if captaining a ship and mastering the art of shipbuilding led to a sense of kinship with England, his brother and mentor, then that was just an added bonus.

Even during and after the Revolution, such sentiments and thoughts persevered. Privateer-ing became a national pastime, and America was proud to say that as a privateer captain himself, he had taken his fair share of prizes.

That being the case, a little under two centuries after taking his last prize, and already a year into an established relationship with England, it wasn't very surprising to America that he still had a few portraits of himself dressed like as a fashionable merchant-captain.

From the way England's knuckles were turning white from the tight grip on the frame, and the demanding expression on his face, Arthur seemed a tad astonished.

"Between your furious campaigning during the Revolution and the burning of your capital during the War of 1812, when did you ever have time to partake in these particular ventures?" Arthur asked, brandishing the painting.

America was impressed. He didn't even know it was _possible_ to brandish a portrait. "Well, it be honest," America said, nervously scratching the back of his neck, "the Atlantic theatre during 1812 was pretty hot, and since a main cause was the impressment of my sailors, it kinda seemed natural."

Sometime during Alfred's explanation, England had turned the portrait around and was staring at it. His face was impassive, except for two bright red splotches high on his cheeks.

America fidgeted. Happy England was easy to deal with. Grumpy England a little less so, but just as cute in an Iggy-sort of way. Expressionless Iggy made the hairs on the back of Alfred's neck stand on end and his body break out into cold sweats. It was more intimidating than a Russia without vodka.

"But…no hard feelings about those wars, right?" Alfred was futilely grasping at straws, hoping against hope that he hadn't managed to hurt Arthur's feelings. He flashed his Hero-grin™.

"Hmm?" England seemed to snap out of a daze. "Oh, oh no. While the Revolution was a heartache, and the War of 1812 was a bit of a nuisance, I can't really begrudge you them." He carefully leaned the portrait on the side of the couch. "I was just wondering what possessed you and your bosses to issue Letters of Marques in such quantities. And to become a privateer yourself…" England trailed off, shaking his head.

America brightened at this. Was that all? "Well, the American navy wasn't exactly all that. Our private and commercial vessels outnumbered them our naval fleet ten to one, and it was always the American way to seize almost any opportunity to make a buck.

"Besides," Alfred added with a grin, "a privateer is like a pirate, only better!"

America's grin began to wither when faced with the odd stare England was giving him. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Arthur let out a long suffering sigh. "You may not remember this lecture, but England's 'pirates' were initially privateers. Queen…"

Alfred tuned out the impromptu history lesson, staring fondly at Arthur instead. The older country was adorable in professorial mode, green eyes glittering as they were wont to do when England was engaged in a subject he was passionate about. A small sincere smile play about England's lips and the green cardigan, white oxford shirt and brown slacks just added to the cute bookish air.

For a while, Alfred had been worried that England, or at least the England from his childhood-the one he had fallen in love with, would never return. That he'd be left standing on his now independent shores, waiting in vain for Arthur's loving smile to break into view over a cresting wave.

But just like in America's Hollywood romance movies, the couple can only ride into the sunset after all the emotional barriers were dramatically broken. And if it took the burning down of Alfred's capital, well, Alfred would burn it down himself if it meant that England would continue to return (his love).

A sappy smile erupted over America's face.

England broke off mid-rant. "What?" He asked, suspiciously.

"I'm afraid I'll need more convincing to agree with you that pirates are better than privateers," Alfred said, smile turning sly.

"Git!" England spluttered. "You weren't listening to me_ at all_! Perhaps if you had listened you wouldn't need more…"

America wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders, pulling him close to his body, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "I've still got that frock coat and bicorne hat, if you still have that cutlass and eye patch."

Notes:

1. According to The Secret Life of Lobsters, by Trevor Corson, the pilgrims really did survive on shellfish that washed up on shore, like lobster. They were _huge giants of the deep_ and were so common that they were considered to be a poor man's meal. How times have changed.

2. During the American Revolution, privateers were a major source of supplies for the Continental Army, seizing thinks like ammo and gunpowder from their prizes (captured enemy ships). The colonies were running low on metal and gun powder, melting statues down to produce the musket balls.

3. During the War of 1812, Great Britain was in dire need of more naval officers to help fight against the French. Since some of the Americans were originally British, and some of those some were ex-royal navy officers and crew members, Great Britain began impressing American sailors.

Long and the short of it, it ended with a blockade, partly because the Brits were trying to protect their own trade from American privateers, and partly to prevent Americans from trading with the French. America didn't like that and it ended up with some pretty interested naval maneuvers/battles.

From what I from my high school US history notes (which should be taken with a grain of salt), the Americans were equally matched and/or better than the British naval fleets making up the blockade due to the sheer numbers of British vessels which caused the British naval personal to be stretched too thin. In short, there weren't enough people to make up a sufficiently run some of their ships. This wasn't a problem for the Americans

4. The diplomatic relations after the War of 1812 were better than those prior to the war. It was a uniting force or something, since Americans were overjoyed after successfully repelling the British threat/gaining independence from Europe (Treaty of Ghent) in the Second Revolutionary War and also from Britain's recognition that America is an independent country (Treaty of Ghent). Yet again, US high school history notes, so it may not be 100% accurate. As if anything historically-based really is. So, uh, yeah, that's why America is actually relatively okay about the capitol being burnt down. It basically represents Arthur's recognition (however reluctant) that America is his own country/capable of being his lover. ^_____^

5. If anyone was wondering, I was kind of imagining Privateer!Alfred to be wearing a navy blue frock coat with gold edging and brass buttons, no cravat, a plain brown waist coat (also with brass buttons) over a plain linen shirt (top button or two undone), navy blue breeches and black stockings. Oh, and a bicorne hat.

A/N redux: Um, I can't seem to manage to paste in a link, so if anyone wants it, just shoot me a review or an email or something and I'll send it. Or, you could just google 'frock coat 1700's'. The style back then was for it not to be able to close, so the buttons were purely for decoration. So, if it's closed in the front, then it's more modern, probably late 1800's or early 1900's inspired.


End file.
